Vanishing
by IndubitablyInsane
Summary: Takes place inbetween the season 4 finale and the season 5 premier. This is not a Thouse story, sorry. This is a bad summary, just read :
1. Chapter 1

Vanishing

Chapter One: Wake Up

* * *

"We're just a million little gods causin' rain storms turnin' every good thing to rust."

* * *

_I nervously shifted my wait from one foot to the other as I stared at the hallway stretched out before me. It seemed to be never ending. Doors plastered the walls on either side of me and continued on into the dark. My feet moved below me before my brain registered where I was going. Where was I going? I aimlessly moved down the hallway. Stopping at a door that was bright white, I slowly turned the doorknob. The room was pitch black, but I continued forward into it. The door creaked closed eerily after me. A monotone voice echoed in the apparently empty room. My head swiveled from side to side, searching for the source of the voice. Then, the black was rushing past my head as the floor under my feet gave out. _

Thirteen's mind slowly came out of its dreamy haze. She waited for her heat beat to slow as she recovered from her frightening fall just seconds ago. It had just seemed so real… _Wait, what time is it? _She raised her head quickly, and then realized what a big mistake that was. Pain radiated between her temples and behind her eyes. Thirteen's eyes closed and opened again, slow and cautious this time. Sunlight filtered through large windows across from the bed, temporarily blinding her. She contemplated where she possibly was as she looked around for a clock. The clock on the nightstand blinked a furious 8:00. _Oh… warm bed… soft pillow… wait, what time is it?_ Her head shot back to the blinking clock. "Shit!"

* * *

"Where's Thirteen?" Inquired the older doctor just walking into the room. "She's late."

"You're late," retorted Foreman.

"I'm always late. Thirteen, however… interesting," House said while a grin slowly crept across his face. "Anyway, we have a case." He tossed a thin file onto the middle of the table. Taub was the first one to grab it and quickly scanned its contents. "I'll be back in five. Someone fill in Thirteen once she's done making my dreams come true." With that House limped from the office leaving Foreman, Kutner, and Taub to look over the file.

* * *

Thirteen was so startled by the time that she nearly rolled off the bed. She regained her balance and looked cautiously to the other person in the bed. She still snored lightly, to Thirteen's amazement. Thirteen pulled back the covers and slowly got up. The mattress creaked from the sudden shift of weight and Thirteen grimaced. She had no idea who this woman was, but she knew that she had no time to deal with her.

Everything was in order, except, of course, for a lone sock. _Where is that damn sock? I could just leave without it…_ Thirteen froze like a deer in headlights. The mattress creaked once again and Thirteen cursed under her breath. Raising her head slowly, she saw a beautiful brunette smiling radiantly at her. "I, uh… Have you seen a sock anywhere?" Thirteen asked her one night stand. "Last night was fun, I, yeah, had fun… My job, though, um… I needed to be there," She glanced at the clock even though she knew what time it was, "…an hour ago." Thirteen continued to scan the clothes strewn floor for her sock, avoiding any further eye contact with the woman in the bed.

She risked a look at the woman and realized too late that she was still staring at her. "I think I'm just gonna… go. It's just a sock, I guess… Well, bye," Thirteen hurried out of the room. She hated the morning after. Her head pounded as she looked around the foreign apartment. The furniture was big and comfy looking. The colors were light and complimented the layout of the room well. Thirteen grinned as she found her misplaced sock next to the umbrella stand. _How'd my sock get all the way over here? Whatever, I should get out of here before House thinks of new questions to ask about my sex life_. She plopped onto the floor to put her sock on. Unfortunately, this action was accompanied by a low growl from behind her. _This morning is just not going my way, is it?_

* * *

House shuffled down the hallway unevenly. Pain began creeping up his leg so he popped a vicodin into his mouth. He stood a while, waiting for the pill to take its effect. The pain began to fade and he continued his way down the hall. He stopped at a familiar door. Something that will always be there, or rather someone. House pushed the door open to reveal an empty office. _How come he isn't back yet? It's been two weeks!_ A flashback came rushing into House's mind despite his great efforts to stifle it.

_House had just woken up from brain surgery. He let them root around in his brain in order to help her. The necessary information had found its way out of his mind, but he also had a seizure. House had been in a place. Was it a dream? Purgatory? He wasn't exactly sure, but he did know two things for sure. Amber was there and his pain was gone. He didn't want to leave, he didn't want the pain, both physical and emotional, to come back. He left though, and of his own free will. House woke up in a hospital bed next to a sleeping Cuddy. His gaze ventured to the doorway and he saw his best friend staring at him. Amber said Wilson would be mad at him. House gave Wilson a forgiving look, but Wilson simply looked away. He was mad. House looked away and when he looked back, he saw that Wilson had left. _

That was the last time that House had seen Wilson and he deeply regretted it. He should let his wall down for a moment. He should've said something, anything, even a string of incomprehensible syllables would've been fine. Cuddy told him that Wilson asked for some time off to mourn Amber's death. She said that he would be back eventually. House knew that Wilson needed time. No one else might know that House has emotions that extend that far, but he was determined to prove to Wilson that he was truly sorry. Even House felt sad about Amber's death. Yes, when she was working for him she was a "cutthroat bitch", but she was kind and different with Wilson. They fit each other perfectly.

House stood staring at the empty air in front of him as he thought of what he was going to say to Wilson once he showed up again. _I should apologize. Or maybe, since he didn't take my first apology, I should defend myself. It wasn't completely my fault, right?_ He was too absorbed in his thoughts to hear the shuffling of feet behind him. He was too absorbed to hear the throat being cleared. Not until a tap was issued upon House's shoulder did he notice the figure standing behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the great feedback :). I'm sorry for any errors, including ones concerning the characters and story line of House. I did my best to stay true to the show, but I can't guarantee anything. Well, enjoy. I appreciate any constructive critisism you have. **

Chapter 2: Strength To Go On

* * *

"Let us open up our hearts without fear of anything."

* * *

She couldn't help but think how much she felt like House as she limped through the hospital lobby. Her eyes found the floor once she realized that many eyes had found her. She tried to limp faster, but that just resulted in pain shooting up her leg. _Damn dog_, she thought, _not only am I late, but now House will have yet another reason to mock me._ She lifted her head, determined to walk with dignity, but failed miserably when she saw Cuddy in the clinic arguing with a nurse.

Ignoring the pain, Thirteen dashed the rest of the way to the elevator, desperate to not be spotted by her boss's boss. She made it into the elevator, glad to see that no one else was in it. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as the elevator door started to shut. She closed her eyes and massaged her throbbing head, not noticing the person rushing into the elevator after her. Silence filled the elevator as it started to travel higher. A voice broke the silence, though, after a few seconds.

"What happened to your leg?"

Thirteen's eyes popped open. She had not noticed the person in the elevator with her until that moment. She turned her head to see an anxious colleague waiting for her answer. "Nothing," Thirteen hastily mumbled. She glanced back down at her feet, avoiding eye contact. She didn't like lying, but she didn't want House to hear through the grapevine what had happened to her leg. She figured that she could check in with House and then go back down to the ER to have her leg looked at.

"It doesn't look like nothing. It's bleeding… and you're limping." The voice stated matter-of-factly. He looked down at Thirteen's leg and then began examining it from different angles. His eyes made their way back up to her eyes, connecting for only a moment before she looked away. "I won't tell House. I promise." He made motions with his hand while saying, "cross my heart and hope to die…" A smile crept across his face, causing her to smirk in return.

* * *

House stood still, unsure of what was happening. _Did someone just tap on my shoulder? How stupid, that wouldn't get my attention. This person is either an idiot or they really don't want to say anything to me. Did Wilson finally come back? No, he would never confront me…_ "Hmm-hmm," announced the man behind him. House's thoughts were interrupted, but only for a moment. He continued his inner-monologue, angering the individual behind even further.

"Excuse me, _sir_, but are you supposed to be here?" Inquired the man gruffly.

House scowled and thought to himself, _who does this guy thinks he is, Mick Jagger? Ha-ha… that's actually pretty funny. You've still got it, House_. House smirked at his silent joke as he began to turn around. _You know what? I think I'm gonna say that. This guy is a jack-ass! Oh, but aren't we all…_ "Hey! Who do you think you are? Mick Jagger?" House retorted, mentally high-fiving himself for such a good quip.

"Hey, buddy, no need to get snappy! I'm just trying to do my job. I was told no one would be here." The man responded with his hands raised in front of his chest in a defensive stance. House gave him a quick look over and decided that he probably wasn't lying. However, everybody lies…

"What's your job?" House questioned while popping another vicoden. He didn't have a good feeling about this man attempting to enter Wilson's office. "Cleaning lady? 'Cause I've got a big stain on the rug in the middle of my office." The frown sliding across the man's face was almost too much for House. He quickly hid his growing grin and plastered a quizzical look on his face instead.

"Ha-ha, you're such a comedian," the man replied sarcastically. "No, I'm a –"

"I don't really care." House quickly said before the man could get out his profession. House decided that he didn't want to know what was going on with Wilson at the moment. Or did he? House looked over the man one more time before exiting the office.

* * *

The door of the office swung open, followed by injured Thirteen. She glanced around the office and smiled gratefully that House wasn't there. However, the two doctors sitting at the table looked at her leg questioningly. "It's fine, guys." Thirteen said before anyone asked what happened. "So, I'm here. If you need me, I'll be getting my leg looked at." And with that, Thirteen left before any questions could be flung at her.

Thirteen was only halfway down the hall when she spotted House. She entered the room closest her, and then realized a little too late what room that happened to be. She looked around the men's bathroom and was once again glad that she was alone. She was about to head out the door when she heard someone about to enter through it. She quickly shuffled to the first stall. She sat on the toilet and silently cursed herself for wearing heels. The squeaking of the opening door was accompanied by the uneven footsteps of a man with a crutch. Thirteen held her breath and hoped to god that House didn't look at the bottom of the stall.

She silently sat there, waiting for House to leave. _Why is it taking House so long to pee? Speaking of which, when was the last time I peed? I don't even think I've peed yet today…_ Thirteen then realized that being in a bathroom and hearing someone pee made her really have to pee. She looked around, _Well, I am in a bathroom. The men's room, but still, there is a toilet in this stall…Oh, fuck it, I'm going pee. _

Forgetting what she was doing in the bathroom in the first place, Thirteen flushed the toilet and unlocked the door. She pushed it open and jumped, startled by the face only inches from hers. His blue eyes chuckled at her obvious surprise. "House! What the hell!?" Thirteen gasped, still catching her breath. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"You scared the shit out of me. I could've sworn you were a girl yesterday. I didn't know genders could change that fast," House said jokingly. "And what happened to your leg? Was it a complication of the surgery?"

"If you don't mind House, I need to be somewhere." Thirteen said while squeezing past House and towards the sinks.

"You need to be at work. We have a case. You would've known that if you'd been here on time. But, obviously, something went terribly wrong last night. One too many drinks can cause _that_ much distortion, I guess. I think that the fur would've tipped me off, though, if I were in that situation, and I have been. Man, You must've been wasted!" House concluded with a toothy grin. Thirteen shook her head and walked out of the bathroom, dragging her injured leg with her.

"Huh…" House contemplated Thirteen's silent exit. His mind wandered slowly towards the man that was in Wilson's office. He had been wearing blue overalls and a plaid shirt. That was normal work clothes and didn't seem to help him figure out who this man was. _He had been holding a clipboard… It had a logo on it, didn't it? Damn, what was that logo? It was oval shaped and, I think, navy blue. But what were the words on it?_ "Wilson, who did you hire and why?" House asked himself out loud.

* * *

Thirteen winced as her elevator companion rolled up her pant leg. She looked down at her tattered leg and wondered how it could've been that bad. It certainly didn't hurt that bad. "Wow, Thirteen, How did you manage to do this? This is gonna hurt a little bit," he said as he poured alcohol onto the wound. He quickly added, "But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to…" He was silenced by Thirteen's uneasy smile.

"I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh," Thirteen bargained. He nodded and Thirteen told him what had happened since she woke up that morning. She left out the part of being in the apartment of a one-night stand. She claimed that she was house-sitting for a friend who hadn't bothered to tell her about her demonic dog. During the story, Thirteen's colleague stitched her leg up. He carefully smiled at her misery, determined not to break his promise.

"Okay, You're all good." He said while taking off his gloves. He gave her a radiant smile as she quickly rolled down her pant leg and stood up.

_You know, He's pretty cute. His smile is so great and he's funny… and, and, Am I falling for him?_ Thirteen shook the thought from her head. "Thanks, for everything, Kutner."

To be continued... :)


	3. Chapter 3

**This is the third chapter. It turned out differently than I intended. It is all a dream... =) Sorry for those of you who were expecting to hear more about Thirteen's story. Don't worry, though, It will continue in the next chapter. Yeah, this dream wasn't supposed to be quite so long *o* enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 3: My Body Is a Cage

* * *

"Still turning in the night  
But when I get to the doorway  
There's no one in sight"

_

* * *

_

_Blonde hair mixed with brunette hair in the spacious bed. House stepped closer to the bed, searching for the identities of the people in it. What he saw didn't surprise him, it was actually quite a pleasing sight. The two female occupants of the bed gazed back at him, but continued their actions within seconds. Thirteen and Amber. Amber and Thirteen, nothing wrong with that. A satisfied grin spread across House's face as the girls giggled and kissed. An armchair materialized in thin air behind House and went to sit in as his leg began to grow sore. _

_His eyes wandered back to the scene taking place in the middle of the room. He was startled when the lights in the room dimmed, but continued watching with delight. All of a sudden, the mood in the room changed. The room became motionless and quiet. House couldn't figure out what had happened. Blonde hair mixed with brunette hair in the spacious bed. House stood up, pain shooting up his leg, and nearly fell back onto the chair. He stumbled a bit, but got his footing and fumbled around in his pockets for his vicoden. A bottle appeared in his hand and he popped off the top and tipped it into his other hand. Nothing came out of the bottle, but it was full to the brim with the white pills. _

_Frustrated, House chucked the bottle at the wall. Pills flew through the air and ricocheted off the walls, floor, and ceiling. House stared longingly at the scattered pills on the floor and rubbed his sore leg. He started towards the closest pill and ran into what seemed like a wall. He tried again, but with no avail. The invisible wall in front of him gained a red tint. He looked around and realized that there were no pills within the red-tinted walls. The only place he could go was the lonesome bed. _

_It had been so inviting before, the bed. Now it seemed to have an eerie glow emanating from beneath it. _No way am I going near that thing,_ House thought. However, he found himself drawn to it. He couldn't help his curiosity, it was too strong to fight. The bed coming into view, house quickly saw that the contents had changed since the last time that he looked in it. Yes, Blonde hair was still mixing with brunette hair, but not in the same sense. It was just the hair, no head was attached the hair. House looked frantically behind him, _What the HELL is going on?_ He looked back at the bed to see that it contained something new this time. _

_Thirteen and Amber gazed at him with empty eyes. Before, their eyes were filled with lust and life, but now they were filled with complete emptiness. Thirteen raised her arm and placed her cold hand on House's. Her eyes dug into his as they made contact and ceased to break said contact. House's eyes wandered down to her mouth as she inaudibly whispered something. "What?" House asked, not understanding what she was trying to tell him. She whispered the same phrase again, this time louder, but House still couldn't understand her. "Just talk, Remy!" House yelled. _Why did I just call her Remy? Sure, that's her first name, but I've never called her that before. I've called her Dr. Hadley every once in a while in front of a patient. I usually just call her Thirteen, so why did I call her Remy just now? _She tightened her grip on his hand, making his thoughts fade into the dark._

"_Help me. House, please, help me." Thirteen said hoarsely. Her eyes gave a flash of life and youth before becoming glassy and unmoving. Her hand dropped from its position and disintegrated into dust. House's face fell at the sight of the lifeless Thirteen. Her face grew whiter and whiter until flecks started to fall away from it. It soon disintegrated just as her hand had. The rest of her body followed shortly after. House backed up slowing, not willing to believe what had just happened. He couldn't back up too far, however, because the invisible wall had moved further forward. He turned around and faced the wall. His fists made an echoing sound in the small room as they pounded on the now solid looking wall. He continued to pound until he heard a small voice from behind him._

What the hell is wrong with my subconscious? Why won't it let me out of this dream, or nightmare? _House thought wildly as he prayed that he didn't actually hear a voice come from behind him. The voice rasped again and House cringed. Once again, he could not count on God to help him when he asked for it. "House… are you just going to stand there? First you wake me up from my restful sleep with your incessant banging and now you refuse to speak to me. I know you're a jerk, but I thought we had a moment the last time we talked. Granted, that conversation was also in your mind…" _Ah shit, _House thought as he turned to see a bitch sitting on the bed. A cutthroat bitch, to be exact._

"_You're dead…" House began, unable to come up with a witty euphemism for the statement. "Last time I imagined you, you gave me advice. Or rather, my subconscious gave me advice. You're still fraternizing with the devil in lala land."_

"_I'm not going to give you advice, House. This is a dream, not a hallucination or anything similar." Amber put her hands on her hips and gave House a smug look. She was ghostly white, which seemed fine to House considering she was dead. She looked exactly like she had the last time that he saw her, in the hospital bed practically dead. Her bruised face reminded House too much of the crash. Of him not being able to save her. He just couldn't stand the pain. She wasn't going to get in his head, he wouldn't let her._

"_Are you telling me that dreams are not messages and hints to the inner mind? Better call up Freud, tell him dreams are nothing more than meaningless scenes." House for a moment and began questioning Amber again. "Are you telling me that Thirteen's death, or whatever that was, had nothing to do with that fact that she has Huntington's and I'm the only one who knows about it? Or that I can't reach my vicoden because my subconscious is trying to tell me that I don't really need it?"_

"_Just shut up, House. It's my turn to talk." She held up her hand as House was about to say something. She put her finger to her lips, telling House that he couldn't talk. He disregarded her incessant requests for him to be quiet and opened his mouth to talk. However, no sound came out when he did this. He simply looked like a fish out of water as he tried frantically to make sound come out of his mouth. "There's no use in doing that. You aren't getting your voice back until I say what I have to say."_

_House gave her a bored look. He hobbled over to the bed and sat down heavily. He then turned to face her and made the motion of locking his mouth and throwing away the key. "Good, you're cooperating now." She smirked as House frowned at her. "Okay, so I lied. But, it's not like you didn't expect it. I am going to give you advice. I'm not really back from the dead or anything. If I was, I wouldn't be spending my time with you, that's for sure. House," She said, grabbing his dwindling attention, "you really screwed things up with Wilson._

"_He isn't talking to you. He isn't even going to work. Do you really think that this is all about me? He's mad at you and you need to fix it. It's your fault that I was on that bus and it's your fault that I died. You just have to accept it before you even think about talking to Wilson. He knows already that this was your fault. He isn't mad at you for killing me, he's mad at you for denying it. He doesn't want your bull shit, House. Apologize, for real." She ended with a satisfied look as House realized that he could speak again. _

"_I did ap-" House began, but was cut off by Amber's quick deterioration. Her body crumbled and fell apart. He stared at her remains, thinking of the similar scene that had happened moments ago with Thirteen. Both of their bodies were now no more than piles of dust and dirt. A whooshing sound echoed through the small room and the colors blended together around him. He was back, back in the beginning of his dream._

_The soft armchair provided good seating, though he didn't need it. The bed in the middle of the room was once again warm looking and inviting. House couldn't see what was in the bed, but he suspected that it was what had been there before. The thought of Thirteen and Amber was quickly replaced by dust, dirt, and decay. He needed to rid his mind of these horrible images. Bracing himself for the pain from his leg, House stood up. Surprisingly, no pain was present. He searched his pockets anyway and pulled out a yellow prescription bottle filled with vicoden. He popped off the top and poured the white pills into his hand._

_Though the pills were not needed, House shoved the handful into his mouth. He welcomed the numbing sensation, welcomed the escape from what had been a terrible nightmare. He walked, with a slight skip in his step for he was quite high, towards the bed. A large lump moved underneath the covers. House couldn't stand it anymore, he wanted, needed, to see the two girls. Not just for his perverse love of girl on girl action, but also to see that they weren't just dead bodies. That is not, however what he saw when he pulled back the covers. What he saw was much more disturbing than dead bodies, than dust and dirt, than anything he could've imagined under those covers. _

_Wilson lay writhing under the covers. His eyes were wide and staring as his body thrashed around. House stared at the misfortunate version of his best friend. He wanted to stop the thrashing, he wanted to make Wilson look at him, he wanted Wilson to be himself. House's wishes came true as the room suddenly became still. Wilson lay unmoving on the mangled sheets and slowly turned his head towards House. His wide and staring eyes looked directly at House, seemingly searching for something. They obviously didn't find anything for they returned to their original position, staring at the ceiling. _

"_Wils-" House growled, annoyed at the lack of kindness in his dream people. The name was cut off as something flew from the other side of the room. House took his eyes off the demented version of Wilson and transfixed them on the object flying towards him. It came closer and closer, seeming to gain speed with every foot. _Shit…_ House thought as the object impaled him. He gasped at the sudden pain and looked down at the object. It was his cane… _

The room melted away and House found himself sitting up in his bed. He looked around at his surroundings, glad to know that he was in his bedroom. His hands quickly rose to his stomach, where his cane had been sticking out of a few seconds ago. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found nothing lodged in his stomach. "I need to talk to Wilson." House proclaimed into the empty air.


	4. Chapter 4

**Another chapter... Enjoy and review. It's a little cheezy at certain points. Sorry if it's confusing.**

* * *

Chapter 4: Can You Tell

* * *

"Oh, have I been to discreet?

How long am I supposed to wait?

I think about you nightly

Oh, can you tell I'm losing sleep?"

- Ra Ra Riot

* * *

Thirteen was thankful for the cold table, and the hot coffee. Her head was set upon the chilling table. Around her, she could hear Kutner and Taub having a heated conversation about Star Trek. The sound of rustling pages was also present as Foreman read the newspaper. Thirteen smiled as Kutner and Taub's conversation ended abruptly with Kutner fiercely pushing away from the table to get some coffee. Though the topic of conversation was always different, it always ended the same; Kutner getting upset and walking away and Taub refusing to end the conversation. Thirteen waited patiently for the second part of their routine to commence. And surely enough, within a minute, their conversation had started up again.

The room got silent at the sound of the glass door swinging open. Everyone looked up at House, hoping that he had a new case for them. Sure enough, House carried a small folder with him. He set it on the table and walked over to the coffee pot. Foreman grabbed the folder and read its contents out loud as Thirteen rubbed her tired eyes. She took a large gulp of her coffee, hoping to wake up a bit more before she had to confront House. Last night was another long night filled with alcohol and sex. Her hangover hadn't quite subsided yet, despite her coffee and aspirin.

* * *

House stood by the coffee pot and glanced angrily at his team. Someone finished off the coffee and didn't bother to put another pot on. No one noticed his death glare as they all seemed too interested in the case he had handed to them. _I wonder how long it will take them to realize that it's the same case we had last week…_ House thought to himself. He chuckled and turned back to the coffee pot, which was now filled with hot coffee. He poured himself a generous amount and walked into his office.

House's red and gray ball bounced rhythmically against the wall as House counted the minutes that passed. House checked his watch and realized that his team had been looking at the folder for 7 minutes. He let his mind wander to his nightmare last night. How horrible… seeing Thirteen seemed to bring the whole thing back to his mind. Speaking of which, Thirteen didn't look so good this morning. _Is Thirteen hung over? Maybe I should talk to her about her Huntington's, she's obviously having a tough time accepting it. No, she's a big girl, she can deal with it herself. And anyway, who said that drinking is a sign that something is wrong? So she has a hangover, it doesn't prove anything. I mean really, I have a hangover and I'm perfectly fine…_

House was drawn out of his thoughts as Foreman pushed through his door, followed by Kutner, Taub, and Thirteen. He gave Thirteen a lingering look before bringing his attention to Foreman. _Please tell me they realized that this is the same case. If they haven't, then I finally have proof that I hired a group of idiots…_

* * *

Thirteen was jolted out of her daydream by the motions of her colleagues. They had all pushed away from the table and were heading towards House's office. Foreman was heading the group, followed by Taub and then Kutner. Thirteen let eyes follow Kutner for moment before getting up and following them. _Hmm… they must've come up with ideas already for the case… _

The group stood comfortably in House's office as he threw his ball against the wall. He gave them all a tired look and waited for their ideas. Thirteen was curious what the group had come up with, she hadn't been listening to their discussion. She did, however, hear what the case was. She couldn't help but think it sounded familiar.

"We think that it's cancer, or possibly a brain problem. The hallucinations make me think-" Foreman said, but was stopped by the bewildered look on House's face. "It's not cancer? What do you think it is then, House?"

"I think, no, I know, that you're all idiots! It wasn't cancer last week when we sent her home…" House berated them. Thirteen tuned him out, she didn't need to hear his speech about how stupid they were. She'd heard it before. She let her mind wander to the other day, and to Kutner. She rubbed her leg as she remembered the dog bite. Granted, the wound was still there and her leg still her quite a bit, but it was a lot better.

Thirteen thought about how kind Kutner had been. He had stitched up her leg and had kept her embarrassing secret. His dazzling smile drifted into her mind and a warmness spread through her body. She shook her head, having the hots for her colleague was not an option. Her mind returned to reality just as Foreman stormed angrily out of the room. House wore a satisfied grin and went back to bouncing his ball against the wall. _I guess it's another day of doing, well, nothing._

* * *

House couldn't help his wide grin, belittling Foreman always brightened his morning. He began throwing his ball against the wall, forgetting that there were still people in his office. Their lingering presence forced House to stop and turn to face them. "You can go now," House told them with wide eyes. He continued his ball bouncing until someone walked into his office.

"Sorry, closed for renovations," House stated without looking to see who had entered his office.

"I'm sorry… I was told no one would be here." The stranger said gruffly. House's head shot up at once, he recognized that voice… and that phrase. He saw the back of a man with a plaid shirt and overalls moving sluggishly out the door.

House stood up quickly while shouting for the man to stop. He limped to the door and out into the hallway. His eyes searched the nearly empty hallway and found no man in a plaid shirt and overalls. _Where did he go?,_ House contemplated while walking back into his office and sitting down.

_I should call Wilson. Who is this man that he hired and why does he seem to be following me around?_ House pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Wilson's home number. One ring… two rings… "Wilson?"

* * *

Thirteen followed the others into the room and took a seat at the table. After a few minutes, Taub decided to go down to the ER and try to find an interesting case. It was just Thirteen and Kutner sitting around the table now. Thirteen, who was reading the newspaper, peaked over the top of the page and saw that Kutner was watching her. She quickly returned her gaze to the page that she was reading.

An awkward silence fell over the two people in the room. "So… How's your leg? You don't seem to be limping as much." Kutner said, attempting to make friendly conversation. Thirteen put down the newspaper while smiling at the sound of his voice. It seemed to twist in the air around her like a melody.

"It's good, thanks." Thirteen said, struggling to find something else to say. She didn't want to stop talking to Kutner, but she seemed to unable to find any words. Her mind had gone blank, it was empty of any intelligible thoughts.

Luckily, the conversation was interrupted by yelling from the office adjacent to it. Thirteen looked over at the office to see that the source of the yelling was House. He was limping across his office, yelling for someone to stop and come back. _Weird…_ Thirteen turned back to Kutner, who was smiling at House's odd behavior. "House has finally lost it." Kutner said and Thirteen nodded in agreement.

They sat there in the stale silence for what seemed like forever. Thirteen glanced down at her watch, it was 9:00. She looked up and opened her mouth to say something to break the silence. However, the silence was broken by Taub bursting through the doors. He was breathing heavily and looked like he had just run all the way up there from the ER. "You… should get… down to the… ER" He said in between gasps for air. "There was a pile-up… and bodies keep rolling in… The ER needs more doctors to help with the patients." Taub finished. He looked at Thirteen and Kutner impatiently as they got up and followed him down to the ER. Thirteen looked back at House, he probably wouldn't help with the onslaught of patients. He appeared to be having an argument with his phone.

* * *

Thirteen wiped the sweat from her forehead. She had been in the crowded ER the whole day without lunch or a snack of any kind. She felt exhausted and hungry. Her watch read 7:00, she'd been there for ten hours. She gazed around the ER, relieved that it was practically empty. Foreman was bandaging an elderly woman's arm, Taub was stitching a cut on a kid's cheek, but where was Kutner? Thirteen had hoped to ask him out before the end of the day. She had decided that the warm fuzzy feeling that he gave her whenever he was around was enough reason to break her rule about not dating coworkers. He was cute and funny and irresistible and she couldn't not ask him out.

Approaching Taub, Thirteen asked, "Have you seen Kutner?"

"Yeah, he left about ten minutes ago, why?" Taub replied without looking at Thirteen.

"No reason," Thirteen said, defeated. She could always talk to him tomorrow… "Well, goodbye. See you tomorrow." Thirteen walked to the locker room. She thought that she heard Taub say, "The bird is on the move," as she got further away. _I must be really out of it. I'm starting to hear things, probably should go straight home tonight._

* * *

Thirteen walked solemnly through the dark parking lot. A bright light flashing by her as House sped away on his motorcycle. _Where is he going in such a rush? God, he nearly ran me over._ She continued to her car, more alert now. She spotted the shadow of her car at the far end of the parking lot.

She got closer to her car and noticed a shadowy figure standing next to it. Thirteen fumbled around in her purse for her keys, for more than one reason. The first reason was so that Thirteen could drive home, quickly if need be. The second reason being that they could be a good weapon if this person was dangerous. She braced herself for a battle as she came a few yards away from her car.

The streetlight above her car flickered and then turned on. Thirteen was thankful for the light and for the revealing of the shadowy stranger. Kutner stood leaning against her car with a huge grin on his face. She smiled back at him and her smile grew as he pulled a single flower out from behind his back. Sure, it was on of the flowers from the garden out front, but it was such a sweet gesture.

Thirteen couldn't hold her attraction in anymore. She walked up to him and kissed him deeply. He returned the kiss with lust and need. The streetlight overhead flickered again and went out, leaving the two colleagues in complete darkness. They didn't seem to mind, though.

* * *

"Dammit, Wilson," House said out loud while racing along the winding road.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi. I'm sorry for the long wait. My mom took away my computer for a while, but I got it back. Yay! Enjoy, and I'm sorry for any mistakes. Oh yeah, and I don't own House or any of its characters. **

* * *

Chapter 5: Falling for the First Time

* * *

"Anyone perfect must be lying, anything easy has its cost  
Anyone plain can be lovely, anyone loved can be lost  
What if I lost my direction? What if I lost sense of time?  
What if I nursed this infection? Maybe the worst is behind."

-Barenaked Ladies

* * *

The road ahead was dark and long. It wound along hilly countryside and was surrounded by the shadows of looming trees. The only source of light was the moon, hanging high in the night sky. A lone headlight illuminated a small path in front of the lone motorcycle. Gleaming eyes and a grin were found upon the face of the man driving the motorcycle. House sped down the abandoned road, squeezing the accelerator as he neared 80 mph.

Memories floated lazily through House's foggy mind. His mind didn't seem to want to match his high speeds. It worked slowly, having difficulty getting around the disorienting effects of the vicodin. He rubbed his eyes, opening them just in time to see the obstacle that had jumped in front of the motorcycle. House swerved and his headlight illuminated a large tree that he was about to crash into.

_

* * *

_

House pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Wilson's home number. One ring… two rings… "Wilson?"

"_No… This is Amber" the voice on the other end answered._

"_Amber? That's not possible…" House murmured to himself. _

"_Excuse me? I'm sorry, I didn't hear what you said."_

"_Amber who?" House questioned the mysterious voice._

"_That's none of your business" The voice retorted. House rolled his eyes and noticed Taub talking to Kutner and Thirteen. He seemed to be out of breath and House wondered what was going on in the ER. Kutner and Thirteen then proceeded to follow Taub out of the room, presumably to help out in the ER. _

"_Just tell me this, is your last name Volakis?"_

"_Volakis? No!"_

"_What're you doing at Wilson's house?"_

"That _is none of your business. All that you need to know is that James is occupied at the moment and can't come to the phone. What's your name? I'll tell him-"_

_House hung up on her mid-sentence and stared at his phone. There was an Amber with Wilson, but not the dead one, which was probably best. House contemplated this for a second. "Oh my god! Wilson's with a hooker!"_

* * *

Fuzzy vision, pounding headache. House closed his eyes and concentrated on what just happened. A bright light called to him from the depths of the woods in front of him. House rubbed his eyes. _Am I awake?_ He looked around his surroundings. A mangled looking tree was to his right and the dirt all around him was disturbed. His clothes were covered in dirt and his hands had scratches on the palms.

Two vicodin made their way down his throat, without the useful aide of water. He heaved his self onto his feet and headed into the woods. The source of the light drew nearer as he crept deeper into the woods. Covering his eyes, House discovered his motorcycle laying in a broken heap. It groaned, or perhaps sighed, as House gave it a swift kick. Flames began engulfing the thick metal. _What the hell?!?_ House gave his beloved motorcycle a last glance and shuffled away quickly. However, not quick enough to escape being affected by the explosion behind him.

_

* * *

_

House sat still, processing his new information about Wilson. It made perfect sense. He hired a hooker, named Amber, probably to just talk to. He tried to replace his dead girlfriend with someone who had the same name. House didn't know what to do next. Should he go to Wilson's apartment? Should he ignore Wilson's plea for attention? Should he act so out of character that even Wilson wouldn't believe him?

_Electric blue eyes stared longingly at the clock on the wall, encouraging it to skip a few hours ahead. The numbers swam through House's vision. He had no idea how long he been sitting in his office. He wanted the day to be over so badly. He wanted to forget that he had the ability to help his grieving friend. But he couldn't. Wilson was just that, a grieving friend. Wilson was House's best friend, and his only one. He couldn't watch as Wilson sulked his life away. Wilson had done so much for House and House had done little to return the favor. _

_However, no matter how hard House tried, he would never be able to help Wilson. He was simply incapable of being comforting. He couldn't offer kind words, at least not to Wilson. He couldn't lie to Wilson. He couldn't tell him that everything was alright, that Amber was in heaven now and was in a better place. It wasn't true. House knew it and Wilson knew it. That's probably why Wilson refused to talk to him. But he could try harder…_

_House was startled out of his constant stream of thoughts by his shrilly ringing cell phone. He looked at the caller id and saw that Wilson was calling. Caught by surprise, House just kept staring at his ringing cell phone. He shook his head and flipped the phone open. "Hello?"_

"_Hello? Is this… House?"_

"… _Amber… how did you get this number?" _

"_It's on James's favorites. Are you the same person who was looking for him earlier today?"_

"_No, I just guessed that the woman calling from Wilson's house would be a hooker with the same name as his dead girlfriend. You see, I'm psychic."_

"_**You're **__his best friend? Well, I'll have you know that he wants to see you. Or, at least, he's looking for you. He's kinda drunk…"_

"_Why didn't __**he**_ _call me? Are you doing all his dirty work? And I'll have __**you**__ know that Wilson is __**always**__ looking for me. Especially when I'm not there."_

"_Can you just come and talk to him? I didn't sign on for this. He paid me $1,000 to spend all day with him. I thought it was creepy, but I needed the money. I wasn't expecting to be spending the evening dealing with a depressed drunk! He is calling your name and I'm done babysitting him. I'm leaving, so you might want to get here quickly before he hurts himself."_

_House was glad that Wilson hadn't changed. It was just like him to hire a hooker for a replacement for his dead girlfriend. However, House was pissed that Wilson's hooker was such an impatient person. She at least had to give him time to get there. "Where are you?" House said while grabbing his coat from the chair and limping out of the room. He glanced at the clock quickly and saw that it was already 7:00. _How did I waste so much time? Good god… I must've drifted off or something!

"_We're at the Red Clover bar in West Freehold."_

"_West Freehold? Why are you all the way over there? Never mind, I'll be there soon." House shut the phone and continued his brisk walk to his motorcycle. House noticed Thirteen walking into the locker-room and wondered how she was doing. He pushed that thought out of his head, Thirteen wasn't his problem, at least not yet. _

* * *

Dirt. Mud. Grass. Those were the first things that House smelled when he dared to breath again. And, of course, burning things. He was flat on his stomach on the ground. After quickly inspecting himself, House got to his feet. His motorcycle was just a burning heap of metal now. _That was so weird… _House took his cell phone out of his pocket. _Damn, no service._ And so began his hike to find a place where his phone had service.

Half an hour later, House finally got a bar. He had been wandering around and now had no idea where he was. After informing the fire department about his burning motorcycle, House scanned his contacts list. The list wasn't large and was mostly filled with his colleagues. He knew that he couldn't call Wilson for a ride, he was drunk and not speaking to him. That left Cuddy, Cameron, Chase, Foreman, Kutner, Taub, and Thirteen. What a pitiful list, and House was sure that even though most of them would come pick him up, none of them would be happy about it. He wasn't going to call Cuddy because she would bombard him with annoying questions. He wasn't going to call Cameron or Chase because they were probably together and he didn't want to have to deal with both of them at the moment. He couldn't call Foreman because he went to visit his parents for a couple of days. He wasn't going to call Kutner or Taub because he heard them squealing about their plans for tonight. That just left Thirteen.

* * *

The sounds of the movie playing in the background engulfed Thirteen's mind for the first time that night. "This is the weapon of a Jedi Knight. Not as clumsy or random as a blaster; an elegant weapon for a more civilized age. For over a thousand generations, the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic. Before the dark times... before the Empire." This was echoed by another voice in the room. Thirteen looked and saw that Kutner was quoting the movie word for word. He noticed her looking at him and blushed. "I've seen this movie a million times…" He defended. She just chuckled and returned to her thoughts.

_It couldn't be Miss Scarlet or Mrs. White because I had them to begin with. Kutner has Mr. Green, so it couldn't be him… _"It's Colonel Mustard with the candlestick in the dining room." Thirteen guessed out loud. Kutner turned from the TV grinning. That must not be right. It was Thirteen's first time playing clue and she had just gotten the hang of the it.

"Nope, Thirteen, sorry. I have the candlestick." The voice at the other end of the game board said. Thirteen had almost forgot that Taub was here. She looked at him and he flashed her the candlestick card. Taub rolled the dice and moved his character into the nearest room. "It's Mrs. Peacock in the library with the knife." Kutner shrugged, he couldn't disprove Taub's theory. They turned to Thirteen. She scrunched her face while she searched her paper for one of those things.

"I guess you win. I don't have any of those." She told Taub. While he checked the cards set aside earlier, Thirteen directed her attention to Kutner. "So is this what you do every Friday night, or just on your dates?"

Laughing Kutner said, "Only the best dates include star wars and clue, and you deserve the best." She blushed at his blatant admiration.

"Ahem… and why did you include me in your date, again? I'm pretty sure I've told you threesomes aren't my thing." Taub said from the corner, receiving Kutner and Thirteen's attention.

"You're here because we're hanging out. We made plans for tonight at the beginning of the week…" Kutner explained. Thirteen's attention was drawn to her vibrating phone. House was calling her.

She flipped open her phone and walked to the window of Kutner's apartment. "Hey House." She answered casually. She knew that it couldn't be an emergency because they didn't have a patient. "What? You crashed?" She nodded her head as he explained the earlier events. "You want me to come pick you up?" She asked, knowing that he would never ask. "Okay, where are you?" She closed her phone after he was done answering her and turned to Kutner and Taub. They were setting up monopoly. She felt bad for ditching them, but House sounded desperate. He must've been to call her for a ride.

"Do you want to play?" Kutner asked Thirteen, motioning to the game board. "I'll even let you pick first." His eyes searched her face, hoping that she would answer. Her only answer was a glance down at her feet.

* * *

Wind whipped through the trees, making their branches creak. A wood sign was House's only clue as to where he was. It was the welcome sign to West Freehold. He was on the ground, laying on his back. The stars were only partially hidden by the incoming clouds. House closed his eyes, listening to the quiet night. Crickets chirped in the woods and a howl echoed in the distance. It was nearly 10, 3 hours later then when he received the call from Wilson's hooker. Wilson was bound to be at his house by now. The sounds of a car broke the silence.

House quickly opened his eyes and stood up. He didn't want Thirteen to pass him, or run him over. High beams burned his eyes as the car came into view. It slowed and turned its high beams off. It steered into the dirt and stopped only a few yards from House's lone body. He shuffled to the passenger side door and glanced through the window. He was glad to see Thirteen's impatient face looking back at him. He opened the door and scooted into the seat.

"Are you okay?" Thirteen asked with genuine concern that reminded House momentarily of Cameron.

"Just peachy. We have to make a quick stop before we go back to Mercer County."

Thirteen groaned. She had been hoping to get back as quickly as possible. "You do know that I'm the one driving, don't you?"

"You do know that I'm the one holding your job and your secret in my hands, don't you. Besides, we're here already and I just need to pick something up quickly."

"Fine. Where to?"

"The Red Clover Bar, Jeeves."

Thirteen rolled her eyes and followed House's directions to the small bar. She had been to many bars like this in the past week. She couldn't help but feel drawn to the cozy exterior. That wasn't why she was there, though. She was there so that House could pick something up and then they would go. Finding a parking spot, she turned the car off and looked at House. "Please tell me you aren't picking up a hooker."

"She prefers to be called a whore." House joked and stumbled out the car. He was disappointed to see that she was following suit. "What, you don't trust me in finding my whore?"

"I want to make sure you don't start drinking or anything. If I'm not allowed to get drunk, then neither are you."

"Who said you can't get drunk?"

"I'm driving!"

"And your point is…?" House searched the crowded bar. He saw rambunctious drunks, but none of them were Wilson. He walked up to the bartender, "Have you seen a drunk man with a prostitute?"

"Everyday day, man." The bartender answered. "Are you looking for someone?"

"Yeah. He's about 6 feet tall. Has brown short hair and huge eyebrows. He was drunk here at 7. Do you remember him?"

"Yeah, I think. There was a guy yelling at the corner table who looked like that. I took his keys. He left an hour ago, though."

"Thanks" House said dejectedly. He had a chance to make up with Wilson and he blew it. House wandered over to a bar stool and sat down heavily. Thirteen sat down next to him. She ordered them two beers. "I thought you said no drinking."

"One drink won't hurt anyone." Thirteen said, sensing House's dismal mood. They drank in silence, acknowledging each other's need for the alcohol. Thirteen drowned her early death sentence while House drowned his failed relationship with his only friend.

* * *

"Hello?" Kutner asked groggily. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was 2 in the morning. _Who could be calling at this time in the morning?_

"Hey Kutner!" Thirteen slurred on the other end of the line. Kutner heard another voice say, "Is that Kutner? Tell him he should get his Indian ass down here." Kutner then heard Thirteen shush House loudly. "Can you come pick us up? We're a little too drunk to drive."

"Of course I'll pick you up. Where are you?"

"A bar." Thirteen looked around the bar through her drunken haze. Kutner heard her voice asking someone where they were. _Oh god, how drunk are they. And why are they drunk. Wasn't Thirteen just going to pick House up?_ "Where're at the Red Clover Bar in West Freehold."

"Okay. I'll be there as soon as I can."

* * *

Kutner squirmed uncomfortably in the driver's seat as House fumbled with his seat belt in the passenger side seat. The interior of the car reeked of alcohol. Kutner had never seen House outside of the hospital or drunk, for that matter. Thirteen was quiet in the backseat. Kutner glanced into the review mirror and saw that Thirteen had fallen asleep. _Great. Now it's just me and drunk House for the car ride back home. Maybe he'll fall asleep too._

A familiar click informed Kutner that House had successfully buckled his seat belt. The drive was long and silent. Kutner was glad that House wasn't being talkative, he was too tired to hold a conversation. He glanced over at House and thought he saw a tear slip down his cheek. He directed his attention back to the road and didn't look away until he got back to Mercer County.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N- A new chapter!?! *gasp* Yeah, I'm sorry it's been so long. There's no excuse, except for new episodes of House (yay!). So, you know the drill. (I own nothing, blah, blah, blah). Grab your snuggie, a candy bar, and your computer and enjoy **

* * *

Chapter 6: Head Over Feet

* * *

"You've already won me over in spite of me

And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn't help it

It's all your fault"

- Alanis Morissette

* * *

Warmth hid itself, reluctant to return to the fresh sheets. Two bodies entangled within the chilling sheets, begging for the warmth to come back. Grasping at each other, finding the warmth finally, but not in the sheets. The warmth hid among the raspy breaths and the bare bodies. It clung to the bodies, not only returning to the freezing sheets, but increasing the temperature of the whole bed. Sweat dampened the sheets as the bodies longed for more. More warmth, more passion, more everything. Grabbing at each other with lust and longing, the crescendo ended, leaving both of them exhausted and satisfied. Sleep crept into their eyes and pulled them meekly shut as visions of times to come invaded their minds.

* * *

The weight on the bed shifted as someone vacated it, trying as best as possible not to stir the other occupant. However, they did not prevail. The bed's other occupant rolled over groggily and looked at the woman attempting a dash for the border. He blinked his eyes a couple of times and rolled back to his original position. "Your money's on the counter. Don't steal anything on your way out." The woman shuffled to put her clothes on and shut the door softly behind her. She grabbed the money on the counter and helped herself to one of the many bottles of vicoden scattered around the apartment.

* * *

Brown eyes fluttered open, oblivious to the bright morning light. They smiled with the memories of the past few weeks. Flashes of the other night brightened them. He shut them tight, hoping to return to that moment, that euphoria. But it was morning and he had to go to work. His eyes opened once again, this time taking in their surroundings. She was still sound asleep next to him. He grinned at the relaxed look stretched across her face.

He thought back to the other night. Words had slipped past his guard, words that he had tried so hard to keep in. But in that moment, no words were held back, including those three burning ones. "I love you," he had said with an uneven voice. Her response was nonexistent, making him doubt his confession.

His thoughts stopped with the blaring of the alarm clock. Kutner looked down at his now awake companion. Thirteen's eyes were wide from the startling alarm still echoing in the room. Kutner quickly turned around and smacked the alarm clock, effectively shutting it up. Thankful eyes returned his searching gaze. Those eyes then drifted shut again, giving in to the demanding sleep.

"Oh c'mon, Thirteen, you can't go back to sleep." Kutner said defiantly.

"Just one more minute, Dad," Thirteen joked while pulling the pillow over her head. Kutner grinned playfully and jumped on top of her. Supporting his weight with his knees, he began to tickle her. She squirmed underneath his body and finally decided to turn over. Her smile mirrored Kutner's as she leaned forward for a gentle kiss. Their lips were seconds away, but before they met, Thirteen pulled away. Kutner jokingly glared at her and grabbed her face in his hands. He kissed her deeply and she returned it with as much passion.

Wanting to not waste anymore time, Kutner hurried off to the bathroom to take a shower. Even though they were in Thirteen's apartment, it was just as familiar to him as his own. Thirteen heard the sputter of the shower in the bathroom and reluctantly sat up. Her emotions were thick in her head. Kutner had told her that he loved her in a sex induced haze._ Is that really how he feels about me or was he just caught up in the moment?_ She pondered this while getting dressed and wandering out into the kitchen. She was in the middle of eating a bowl of frosted flakes when Kutner walked in.

After they had both finished eating breakfast, and effectively avoided discussing what Kutner had said, they headed into work together.

* * *

"Good morning, ladies!" Greeted the gimpy doctor cheerfully. The doctor, who's usually known for his bitter mood and harsh words, was practically skipping into the hospital. He winked at the nurses camped at the nurse's station and continued his journey to his office.

Once in the elevator, House gave a friendly wave to Cuddy, who was passing by. She stopped suddenly and gaped at him. Her eyes narrowed, showing her skepticism of his kind mood. He only shrugged his shoulders in response. The doors closed, cutting off House's smiling face from Cuddy's view. She looked around suspiciously and then stalked off to her office.

Thirteen gripped her coffee; black and bitter, just the way she liked it. She sneaked a glance at Kutner, who was sitting across from her at the table. He gave he a secretive smile in response. They hadn't told anyone about their relationship except for Taub. House might've had his suspicions at one point, like after Kutner came to rescue the drunken Thirteen and House.

Forman shook his head. "You do know that you guys are fooling anyone, right?" Thirteen and Kutner's heads shot up, unsuspecting of Foreman's knowledge of their relationship. "You are surrounded by intelligent doctors. Also, you both suck at lying." He gave them an approving smile at took a large gulp of his coffee.

Kutner scooted his chair out from the table and looked into Thirteen's eyes. He flashed a grin and then announced, "Well, in that case…" He walked around the table and took the vacant seat next to Thirteen. "I'm going to sit next to my girlfriend."

A slight blush crept across Thirteen's cheeks as Kutner leaned in and pecked her on the lips. Foreman raised his eyebrows at Kutner's show of affection. He always thought that Kutner would be more shy, especially since he rarely talked about girls. On some level, Foreman always felt that Kutner was batting for the other team.

Everyone was pulled out of their thoughts as a loud screeching sound wandered into their room. Searching for the source of the sound, no one took notice of House.

* * *

House floated down the hallway, his feet planted firmly on cloud nine. Entering his office, he saw his minions in the next room. Apparently Thirteen and Kutner had finally figured out that their relationship was not quite as hidden as they thought. He grinned mischievously and grabbed his electric guitar, which was leaning against the far wall. After plugging it into the amp, House strummed once, gathering the attention of his ducklings.

Walking into the adjacent office, House began to play a song. He belted out the chorus:

_Well, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?) _

_I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?) _

_Tell me, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?) _

_'Cause I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?) _

Thirteen, Taub, Kutner, and Foreman just watched in stunned silence. Kutner made an attempt to join in on the chorus, but House stopped playing. "Just recounting the events of last night…"

"You kinda need drums to pull off that song…" Kutner started, regretting it immediately. House just glared at him, deciding that it was too early in the morning for arguments. He also didn't want to deflate his joyous mood.

House wasn't sure what was fueling his good mood. Maybe it was the almost free sex the other night, or absence of a hangover. Either way, it was bound to dissipate if he hung around his employees. "We have no case. I'm going to the clinic, do not follow me." House put his guitar back in his office and left for the clinic. His cloud nine was significantly closer to the floor then it was before, allowing his feet to drag a little on the floor.

* * *

Four astounded doctors stood silently in the office that House had just vacated. Kutner was the first one to talk. "Well, at least we have a House free day!" Taub and Foreman just grumbled in response, hoping for something productive to do. Thirteen smiled in agreement.

"Maybe Cameron needs some help down in the ER," Foreman suggested. He began to walk out the door, followed by Taub. He turned to see that Taub was his only follower and frowned. "Are you guys coming?"

"We'll be there in a little bit." Thirteen answered while facing Kutner.

"Okay, whatever…" And with that Foreman and Taub left Kutner and Thirteen alone.

Thirteen grabbed Kutner into her arms, taking advantage of their time alone. She pulled away, however, quickly. He gave her a questioning look. "What's the matter? Did I do something?"

"It's nothing like that, it's just…" Thirteen backed away from Kutner's warm embrace and sat down at the table. He sat down in the chair next to her. She turned to face him. "Did you mean what you said last night?"

Kutner grabbed her hands in his. His eyes seemed to probe hers. "I've had a lot of girlfriends in the past. None of them have ever lasted this long. Yes, Thirteen, I love you. I haven't been able to say that to anyone after my parents died except my adoptive parents. And even then it took years.

Tears moistened Thirteen's eyes. "I… I love you, too." Thirteen's mind drifted to her mother's face. It smiled at Thirteen, reminding her of what love felt like. She did love Kutner, she was sure of it. She hadn't opened herself up to anyone, afraid of getting hurt where it really mattered. But, it was different with Kutner. He saw her and loved it all.

Kutner broke Thirteen's inner ramblings. "I haven't let myself grow close to anyone. Since my parents were killed, I've always feared deep down that anyone else I loved would die too. But I see now that I can love and everyone around me isn't going to drop dead. _You're_ not going to drop dead. Well, at least not until you're old and have lived a long life."

The blood drained out of Thirteen's face, leaving it pale. This couldn't be happening to her. She couldn't be doing this to him. She shoved her chair away from the table and ripped her hands away from his grasp. "I, uh, have to go. I'll see you later." She rushed out of the room. Kutner's face only showed surprise, ingeniously hiding the hurt that was radiating through his body.

* * *

House limped to the clinic. His high had dissipated in the walk from his office to the clinic. For some odd reason House had decided to use the stairs rather than the elevators. Now his leg was searing with pain.

Exhausted, House sat down with the patients in the clinic and popped some vicoden into his mouth. He sat and listened to the mindless rumble of worried people. A voice seemed to be directed towards House. He turned his head to his right, "What?" He said slightly rudely.

"The service here is horrible, isn't it? I've been waiting for almost an hour to get looked at." He motioned at the other people sitting in the waiting area. Then he lowered his voice and said, "All of these freaks only have colds. I, however, am really bad off and people who got here after me are going before me."

House shook his head and chose to ignore this one ignorant and selfish patient. He saw something, rather someone, else that caught his attention. That man. He was back and he was in Cuddy's office. Cuddy was talking to the man and then handed him an envelope of cash. A fat envelope. _How could I not think of _That!? With that thought reeling through his mind, House made his way to Cuddy's office.

**

* * *

**

A/N- I'm not so sure this chapter is so awesome. I still hope you enjoyed it, though. I'm still open to criticisms and comments. The next chapter will be the last, or at least I think it will be. Stay tuned.

**This story is brought to you by… The replacement of vampires with aliens. **


	7. Chapter 7

**This is the last chapter. It's wicked long and it's been a wicked long time since I've updated. I'm sorry about that, but there were flying monkeys and they crapped on my computer, making unable to use. Just kidding :) Enjoy and I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter 7: Only Time Will Tell

_

* * *

_

Now, sure as the sun will cross the sky

_This lie is over_

_Lost, like the tears that used to tide me over_

_- Asia_

* * *

Lies. Whether they're little white lies made for comfort or big ones that define a person, everybody has them. House always said, "Everybody lies". That statement, as true as it is, changes people. From House's team to the hospital staff, this statement raised questions of true and false. Real and fake.

Skepticism enters the minds of those who have lived by this statement. Foreman. Chase. Cameron. House. Thirteen. Taub. Kutner. Overrun by House's distrust of everyone changed all of their lives. The truth doesn't exist to them anymore. Everyone is guilty of lying about something. To someone. Maybe to everyone. However, these lies are no longer safe. They are slowly being uncovered by a brilliant doctor. These lies better run and hide or they will be burned by the light of truth.

* * *

She never did things like this. Why would she? With a deep breath, she invited him to sit on the couch next to her. He, instead, took the seat across from her, looking her square in the eyes. He was all business. His leg shook uncontrollably and his hands didn't seem to be able to stay still. She leaned against the back of the couch and crossed her legs, waiting for the man to stop fidgeting.

When this didn't happen, Cuddy leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. The man stopped fidgeting at this action. He searched her face and a creepy grin crept onto his face. With his head cocked to the side, he glanced down at the envelope she had with her. Her grip tightened on the white envelope and his face scrunched up with anger."

"Show me what you have first." Cuddy tried to keep the disgust out of her words as they slipped from her mouth. She felt so dirty, so horrible.

The man nodded solemnly at her request and pulled a file out of his briefcase. "Your guy's clean. Aside from a hooker or two, he's the same guy you described. It's all in the folder; pictures, conversations, work ups on his friends." He nodded as Cuddy transferred the envelope into his hands. He opened it and counted the money silently.

"Don't worry, it's $500, just like you asked. So, you think he's fine to come back to work at the hospital? He hasn't developed any harmful addictions or anything like that?"

"Dr. Cuddy, his girlfriend died. He dealt with it in a healthy way, you should be happy. You sound like you want a reason to restrict him from coming back…"

"That is not the case-"

"Cuddy, What the hell is this!" House demanded as he burst through the office doors, followed by Cuddy's secretary. Cuddy's hand found her forehead and the man quickly hid his envelope of cash under his seat cushion. House's look of indignation didn't fade and Cuddy refused to lift her eyes to meet his.

* * *

The floor below her shined like her tear-filled eyes. The walls were strewn with shelves of gauze and suture kits. Small and private, this room closet was used very often for either hook-ups or crying. She was there for the latter.

The hard floor seemed to comfort her shaking body. Thirteen was huddled up against the door, knees to her chest and lips trembling. Tears were overflowing from her red-rimmed eyes. She wouldn't let even the smallest whimper escape her lips, not wanting someone to discover her. The tears showed no sign of letting up as Thirteen's head fell into her waiting hands.

Thirteen couldn't remember the last time that she cried like this. Perhaps it was at her mom's funeral. Everyone was crying there; wiping their eyes and blowing their noses. She felt of place with her dry eyes. Barely realizing the loss she had received, she wasn't that sad. She didn't want people to see that, though, so she thought of something truly sad. She cried the longest and the hardest. It wasn't until years after had she realized how much she lost when her mom died. The hate had dissipated and she was left with an empty place in her life.

A while had passed and Thirteen's butt had grown numb. Her head ached and her eyes stung. But, fortunately, she had stopped crying. Just as she was wiping her face on her sleeve, the door behind her back was swung open. Thirteen, who was completely relying on that to keep her upright, fell flat on her back. The doctor who had opened the door quickly stuttered an apology and went to help Thirteen to her feet. Thirteen mumbled a thanks and darted away. She needed to find Kutner. She needed to end everything before it got too complicated.

* * *

A lie discovered. A scene frozen in time. Eyes avoiding eyes. A heavy silence hanging in the air. Unmoving muscles, even the hearts seemed to have stopped beating. Seconds elapsed into minutes. No eyelids fluttered; an endless staring match with absolutely nothing. No one uttered a word. No one dared to take a breath. One voice broke through. Cuddy's secretary whispered, "I'm sorry, Dr. Cuddy. He's quicker than you would expect him to be. Do you want me to call security?"

Cuddy's head snapped up. "No, Margaret, it's fine. I'll deal with him myself." Her confidence rushed back into her body as she rose to her feet. Still ignoring House, she turned to the man. "If we're all set here…" she said while motioning towards the door.

"Yes, we are done. I'll be leaving now. It was nice doing business with you, Dr. Cuddy." With that last word the door slammed shut behind him. Cuddy was alone in her office with House. For some reason she felt ashamed that she had to explain the whole situation to House. He would understand, wouldn't he? His morals are barely intact, but not when it comes to Wilson. His best, and only, friend.

"Now, are you going to explain what you were doing with that man?" Not a hint of humor reached House's voice. His stern gaze bore a hole into the back of Cuddy's head. She was still facing the door. He considered adding a dirty joke, there were so many possibilities. House just wasn't in the mood, though.

He couldn't believe that he finally found out who that man was. The one who had been creeping around his and Wilson's offices. He seemed so sleazy. It only makes sense that he was hired by Cuddy. She would hire a creeper like that.

"House, he is none of your business. It doesn't concern you anymore than the color of my underwear does."

"Well… Was that a set up? Do you want me to joke my way out of this and forget why I was angry in the first place?" House's eyes followed Cuddy as she moved to the seat that the man was sitting in just moments earlier.

While sticking her hand under the cushion, Cuddy replied, "Of course not! The color of my underwear doesn't concern you, that's all! Can you please just leave it alone?"

House might've been drilling Cuddy, but already knew the answer that he was looking for. He knew who the man was, but he wanted to hear it from Cuddy. "Just tell me already! What, are you doing illegal things? You know that doesn't bother me."

"Fine. You really want to know?" House nodded his head with a "duh" look painted onto his face. "Okay. He… He's my personal masseuse." She planted a convincing smile on her face.

House put the same convincing smile on his face. In his head he reminded himself that everybody lies. He shouldn't expect anything better than that from Cuddy, or anyone, for that matter. He watched as Cuddy put the man's envelope of money in her desk and left her office.

His mind had two things running through it. One, he needed to get shit-faced. And two, he wanted to hide that money somewhere in her office, just to screw with her. The second thing would most likely follow the first one.

* * *

The ER was slow that day. Hardly anyone was in there, except for nurses and doctors. Kutner knew that he should go help out in the clinic, which was always crowded, but wasn't quite motivated to do so. He couldn't help but dwell on Thirteen's sudden disappearance. He wasn't even sure what had happened. One moment he was telling Thirteen how much he loved her and the next, she was escaping through the door.

Kutner laid down on an empty bed and covered his eyes with the hands. He wished that he could take everything back and not have told Thirteen that he loved her. He wished that he hadn't driven her away. But it was stupid to dwell on the past; he couldn't change any of it. A shaky voice next to him made him sit up.

"Can we talk?" Croaked a red-eyed Thirteen.

"Yeah, of course. Can I go first, though?"

"Um… I gue-"

"Okay, here it goes… I'm sorry. For pushing my feelings on you. For rushing into all of this. I would understand if you're feeling overwhelmed and confused. I'm sorry that I told you that I love you when it's only been a few weeks. I didn't want to push you away or upset you, which I obviously did." Kutner exhaled and examined Thirteen's face for a trace of something. He only saw it sadden as his rant went on. It was her turn, though, and he clamed up.

"Laurence…" She said somberly, head hung low.

"Laurence? You never call me that. This is bad, isn't it?"

"I think we should break up. It's not you, it's me. I thought I was ready for something like this, but I'm not. Not even close. I hope that we can continue to be friends. Our relationship can't go past that. Not right not, at least. Or even in the seeable future." She signed and looked up at Kutner's grief stricken face. It looked as though she had just told him that his parents died, again. "I'm so sorry…" Thirteen whispered and turned around to leave. She heard Kutner's distant voice.

"I just… I don't understand."

"You wouldn't." With that Thirteen left the hospital and headed towards the nearest bar. She needed alcohol; lots and lots of alcohol.

* * *

"Another scotch, Scotty." House ordered from his usual stool at _White Horse Bar_. The familiar red headed bartender poured another scotch into his glass. House counted this as his fourth glass. He was headed in the right direction. He had effectively lightened his crappy mood. A few more drinks and he would be able to justify hiding Cuddy's money.

"Hi. I'll have a rum and coke on the rocks." House looked to his right. He recognized that voice. Well, he mostly recognized it. The emotion clearly intertwined in it was a new touch.

"Thirteen? Drowning your problems too?" House slurred as he half got off half fell off his stool. He wobbled over to where Thirteen was situated and clambered up onto the stool next to her.

Thirteen shook her head at her drunken boss. She didn't even try to hide her smile. She'd never encountered drunk House before. Well, not while she was sober. She nodded a thanks to the bartender as he placed her drink own in front of her.

"Cheers!" House shouted and raised his glass to hers. With this action, House managed to spill about half of his drink, but it didn't seem to faze him. He poured the other half of the drink down his throat. He wasn't as drunk as he acted. He had to drink a lot of alcohol to get **that **drunk. However, Thirteen didn't know that. He hoped that Thirteen would spill some juicy gossip while she thought he was too intoxicated to remember it the next morning.

"What're you trying to rub out of your head, House?" Thirteen asked as she swallowed a large gulp of her drink. She always hated the burn, but loved the warm feeling immediately following.

"It's a burden knowing all the secrets of the world." House smiled despite himself. He might not've been blubberingly drunk, but he was still slightly intoxicated.

"Oh, I know." Thirteen and House sat in silence for a while, sipping their strong drinks. Thirteen stared at her quickly emptying glass. She wished that she didn't break up with Kutner. She wished that she had an option that didn't involve him getting hurt in any way. But life is messy and people get hurt, whether they deserve it or not.

* * *

Her door looked the same as it always did. Black and identical to the other ones continuing down the hall, except for the silver numbers on her door. Kutner put his curled fist up to the door, about to knock. But it stopped and fell limply against the smooth door. What was he even going to say to her? She didn't want to be with him, it was that simple.

_Oh, screw it!_ Kutner quickly pounded on the door before he could reconsider. After waiting a few minutes, he tried again. Though he was skeptical of his plan at first, it was now all he wanted to do. He wanted to talk to her, or at least get his things out of her apartment. No one answered again and Kutner assumed that Thirteen wasn't home. He fished her apartment key out of his pocket and unlocked her door.

The door swung open soundlessly, not disturbing the silent apartment. "Hello? Thirteen, are you here?" Kutner yelled as he shut the door behind him. He quit his yelling once he noticed that all of the lights were off. Kutner flicked them on, brightening the living room. He justified breaking into Thirteen's apartment by explaining to himself that he needed his things. It didn't matter that he didn't actually have anything there.

Kutner wandered around the familiar apartment. It made him sad to think that he would probably never be in there again. Thirteen's answering machine had a blinking ten on it. _Ten new messages? Has she even been home today? And why would she have __**ten**__ new messages?_ Kutner pressed the play button and listened to the messages. The beginnings of all of them at least:

"Hey, Remy, it's Dad. Just wondering how you're doing. Call me when you get thi-"

"Rem, it's my party! Where are you? You said you'd be joining in on the festivities. Just wanted to make sure you weren't in a gutt-"

" It's Dad again. I know that you're probably at work, but –"

"Sorry, I think the machine cut me off. Like I was say-"

"Damn machine! You should-"

"You know what, Remy? I'm getting you a new-"

"As I'm sure you're aware, the elections are being held soon. We were calling to make sure that you're voting senator-"

"Rem! Woo! You missed an awesome party! I'm a little sloshed, but that's the best part! Would you mind-"

"John, will you stop ignoring me? I know that you're getting these f-ing messages and I would appreciate-"

"Thirteen, I'm sorry. For whatever I did-"

Kutner cut off the last message. The message that he left for her. He desperately hoped that she would listen to more of it than he just did. Those messages didn't tell him anything that he wanted to hear. For some reason, he thought that there would be some magical message. One that Thirteen had left on there for him, knowing that he would go to her home and hear the massage. That would've been too perfect though, and he wasn't that lucky.

Kutner shuffled over her nightstand. He knew that he would regret invading her privacy, but that didn't matter to him at that moment. He just wanted an answer to something. Anything. Opening the top drawer, Kutner got an answer. However, it wasn't an answer to any question he was asking. Not a question he even thought to ask.

* * *

"Fill 'er up, Scotty!" Called a drunken man at the end of the bar. Steve hated bartending. Not only did he have to deal with yelling drunks, but no one could ever remember his name. Everyone called his Scotty. His name was **not **Scotty. It was probably because of the bright orange hair sloppily arranged on top of his head. He looked quite Irish, he couldn't really argue with that.

Steve walked over to the man who had just yelled for another drink. He filled the cup with scotch and waited the typical grumbled thanks. None came, though, angering the tired bartender. Steve hated this guy. He was a regular, always sitting in the same stool, ordering the same drink, always by himself. He was rude and even ruder when he got drunk.

That night was different, though. The man was with a woman. They were both quite trashed and Steve couldn't help wondering whether the woman was his girlfriend, or even a friend at all. The bright blue eyes looked over and saw Steve staring at them. "Yes? What do you want?" The scruffy face asked Steve condescendingly. Steve just shook his head and walked to the sink to "clean some glasses". The bar was nearly empty and he didn't have any difficulty hearing the drunken conversation between the rude crippled man and the green-eyed woman.

"What about Orlando Bloom? Not even him?" The brunette woman asked the man.

"I told you, Thirteen. I wouldn't turn gay for ANY guy. I would ask you which girl you would turn gay for, but I'm afraid you've beaten me to that."

"Shuddup. You know you like it." She shoved him playfully and they both nearly fell off their stools. Steve decided that they should have their keys taken from them. Maybe he would wait though for another drink or two. The woman was talking again to the man, "House, can I tell you something?"

"No. It wouldn't matter anyway cuz I probably won't remember it tomorrow…"

"I don't care. You were right… I'm dying. I have Huntington's and I can't deal with it. It sucks that my life is almost over when it seems like it just started." Steve just stared at the woman with pity pouring out of his eyes. He walked to the other end of the bar; he didn't want to eavesdrop on them any more.

* * *

Huntington's. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Kutner dropped the slip of paper back into the drawer and slumped down onto the floor. He landed uncomfortably on a pointy shoe, but barely noticed it. Thirteen was dying. It wasn't that bad, was it? She wasn't dying tomorrow…

Kutner messed up. Thirteen broke up with him for this reason. He had told her that everyone he loved died. He loved her and she was dying. _Wow, I have awesome luck…_ Kutner thought sarcastically. _Maybe I should stay away from her, though. She obviously didn't want me to know about her disease. She'll tell me when she's ready to._

Kutner gathered himself off the floor and returned everything to its original place. As Kutner locked the door behind himself, he knew that there was more than one reason that he didn't want to get back together with Thirteen. Not just because she didn't want to, but because he didn't want to get hurt. He mentally smacked himself for being so selfish, but what could he do? He didn't want another one of his loved ones to die. Thirteen was definitely going to die prematurely. The only logical thing to do would be to not make her a loved one. Kutner faded into the dark hallway as his mind continued trying to justify his selfishness.

* * *

Thirteen could stand the silence this time. She was smashed and could barely remember what she had exactly told House. She was kind hoping that she hadn't said anything, but it hardly ever worked out that way.

"I'm planning on hiding Cuddy's money." House said randomly. He glanced in Thirteen and saw her confused look. "Just to mess with her, of course. She lied."

"Everybody lies, don't they?" Thirteen asked. "Also, that's the stupidest plan I've ever heard. She's gonna know it was you and then you'll get crap for a long time. You just like her attention, don't you?"

"Hmm… Maybe I do." Their conservation ended as the bartender came over and cut the two of them off. They both left in separate taxis, agreeing that they would see each other tomorrow. They did, of course, keep this agreement, but not because they remembered it. Both House and Thirteen woke up with a vague memory of the other night.

* * *

House was nursing his hangover with a combination of soda and videogames. Sure, he'd been hiding in that patient room for several hours and the hangover had been gone for a while, but the irritability was still there.

House looked up from his game and saw Cuddy walking into the room. "Wilson's back. What're you going to say?"

House scoffed at her question. "He's been gone for two months. He can at least wait till I finish slaying a guy in a skull cap and a pair of tights." House had actually been waiting for Wilson to come back. He had thought long and hard about what he planned to say. But those thoughts occurred weeks ago and he didn't bother to write them down. He had given up on getting his best friend back. He scowled as Cuddy went over and unplugged the video game system he was playing.

"When was the last time you talked to him?" Cuddy asked sympathetically.

"I think it was after… When did his girlfriend die?" House reached next to him and pulled his soda out of the hand of the comatose patient in the bed. "He wanted time alone. I considered being a horrendous pain in the ass, but I didn't want to tread on your turf."

Their conversation ended as Foreman walked in and informed House of their new patient. House was slightly glad that they had a patient; He didn't want to talk to Wilson. Not yet, at least.

* * *

The office was full. Kutner, Taub, Foreman, and Thirteen sat at the table, bouncing ideas off of House, who disputed each one with a new reason.

Taub was the first to come up with an idea that House agreed with. "Her job keeps her constantly on the road. She probably has a steady diet if airline peanuts and diet soda. It could be B4 deficiency; It would explain all the symptoms."

Thirteen quickly refuted Taub's idea. " Why is everyone leaping to conclude a strong career woman's been made sick by her strong career? It's most likely cancer that's spread to her brain."

House shook his head. " Huh… Great, now everyone knows."

"You knew that patient had cancer?" Taub asked unsurely.

"Is that what she said? I though she said, 'I'm suddenly and irrationally defending the patient's strong career, even though in reality she's just a glorified grunt, because I'm trying to convince myself that it's okay not to have a life. Because I don't have a life because I was tested for Huntington's and my life span's been cut in half.'" House looked down at Thirteen. She shrank back in her seat and avoided all of the eyes that were on her. "Been waiting two months for her to say that."

House felt bad for what he said as Thirteen shuffled quickly out of the room, followed by her worried friends. However, she needed friends to help her. She needed someone emotionally available to help her deal with her death sentence. He watched hopefully as the others caught up with Thirteen at the elevator.

* * *

Kutner was the first out of the door. "Are you okay?" The empathy in his voice was sincere, even though he already knew she wasn't. She hid it well behind her fake smile and strong eyes.

Foreman then added, "Could be years before you see any symptoms."

And Taub added to that, "Why wouldn't you tell us?"

Thirteen turned to face them, her face cold as steel. "I don't have Huntington's." Her voice was reassuring, but it didn't convince Kutner. He knew the truth and everyone else should too.

"Are you lying to us?" He saw Thirteen's glare and quickly added, "Because it's none of our business?"

" If it's none of your business, then I shouldn't have to answer these questions. And I wouldn't have to if House didn't want to answer those questions about Wilson. He's deflecting his own problems onto me."

"Are you deflecting now?" Thirteen simply gave him a look that clearly told him to shut up and the elevator door closed.

* * *

Thirteen took advantage of her time alone in the elevator. She massaged her temples and let her smile slip off her face. She vouched to get House back for what he did. Just when she started to think that he was a decent human being, he went and did something like that. But until that time came, Thirteen had to prepare herself for the rest of the day. She pulled a small flask from her waistband and unscrewed the top.

The familiar burn. The warmth that alcohol bought. It wasn't in the large gulp that Thirteen took from her flask. Probably because there was only water in it, but she liked to pretend that it was filled with something stronger. She scrunched up her face as if she was swallowing a shot and put the flask back into her waistband. It was going to be a long day. A very long day.

* * *

House stood undecidedly in the hall. Nurses and patients surrounded him as they walked past. He felt stuck in time as he contemplated what he wanted to say to Wilson. He pulled a familiar bottle out of his pocket and popped the top open.

The rush of Vicoden. It numbed his ever sore leg, it numbed his ever growing emotion. This was it. House had to see, had to know, if he had lost his one and only friend. He had to go into Wilson's office and act as if nothing had changed. As if those two months that Wilson had refused to talk to him never existed. But that was easier said than done. House amongst the commotion and thought _"Today's going to be a long day. A very long day."_

**

* * *

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The end! Ta-duh! It's magical like fairies and peter pan. "I do believe in fairies." :) And, yes, that last has direct quotes from the first episode of the fifth season. Per usual, please review.


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